


The First Law of Holes

by Amberdreams



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, Archaeology, Barebacking, Geek Love, Italy, M/M, Manhandling, Wall Sex, almost infidelity, culture geeks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberdreams/pseuds/Amberdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen and Jared are American students studying archaeology at a British university. Jensen is a post grad, Jared a second year undergraduate, so they haven’t had much to do with each other until, during the summer break, they both join an expedition to Italy.  Neither of them is looking for a relationship, yet somehow, stuff happens…</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Law of Holes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Delanach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delanach/gifts).



Now with bonus art! **The First Law of Holes**

_ A good archaeologist will always follow the First Law of Holes: if you are in one, carry on digging. _  
**_ A-M Byrne 2013  _ **

 

**November 21 st, Branchester University Sports Centre **

Jensen wipes his sweaty hand on the matte-painted wall of squash court #3, and grins at his panting opponent.  Jared is bent over with hands braced on his strong thighs, and Jensen tries not to think about what else he might like to be doing to Jared in that position right now, instead of thrashing him at squash.  Jensen’s hand tightens unconsciously, rolling the small ball between his fingers.  The rubber is pleasantly smooth and warm to the touch…

“My serve, kid,” he says and bares his teeth in a predatory smile.  Jared scuffs at the polished wooden floor where his sweat is making a small puddle, and grins back.

“Think you can take me, old man?” Jared says, and Jensen feels a small shiver at the heated challenge in those sharp hazel eyes.

“Oh yeah, Jay, you know I can take you any way I like…” he pauses and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively before throwing the ball up to take his best shot.  Jared is on his toes in the T of the court, clearly thinking he’s ready for anything, but the tiny rubber missile shoots past him at ankle height and lands perfectly just above the backboard before dropping just out of Jared’s reach.

Jensen’s whoop of victory is cut off when Jared crowds him against the wall, looming like the freaking Colossus of Rhodes, bracketing Jensen with those steely thighs.  Jensen swallows hard.

“So I’m a Colossus, eh?” Jared’s voice is dark as the promise in his eyes, and Jensen flushes.  Had he really said that out loud?  He really needs to be more careful what he lets slip when Jared’s in this kind of mood. The one thing guaranteed to ignite Jared Padalecki’s ardour beyond reason is Jensen talking ancient history.

And Jensen can’t help remembering back to the summer it all began…

 

**1 Agosto, Roma**

It wasn’t that Jensen had forgotten, but the Prof still made him jump when she stuck her head around the library door and yelled, “Students will be here in an hour!” before disappearing into the depths of the British School at Rome. Jensen frowned as the emphatic clicking of her heels on the corridor’s marble floor faded into the distance.  He let his head drop with a dull thud onto the pile of reference books on the table in front of him.

 _Fucking undergraduates with their high squeaky voices and disturbing enthusiasm for beer and their unbridled libidos._ At the ripe old age of twenty-four, Jensen felt those times were well behind him. All he knew was, his peace was about to be shattered.

Jensen sighed.  Why had he ever agreed to help Professor Campbell babysit over the summer when he had all this research to do?  The question was hypothetical, of course.  He knew the answer – he needed this trip to get the data he needed to write his thesis, which was why he’d begged the Prof for a place on her annual expedition to Botromagno in Apulia, right down in the instep of Italy’s boot.  He really needed to see those southern rock-cut tombs for himself. He had measurements and a boatload of information about the Etruscan rock-cut tombs like the ones in Viterbo and Tarquinia.  The northern Italian sites had been subject of research since the 18th century, but the ones in the far south of Italy had barely been touched except by tomb-robbers, and he, Jensen Ackles, wanted to be the first to write them up.

Dominic had never understood Jensen’s passion for archaeology, but then after a year with Dom, Jensen had come to the conclusion that the only passions his British ex-boyfriend had the brain capacity to understand were cricket (a game that, as an American, Jensen had never quite fathomed) and fucking.  Not that Jensen was adverse to the latter, but there was more to life than having a nice dick stuck up his ass. He was, after all, not just a pretty face. Or ass.  He’d told Dom exactly that, and Dom had promptly ditched Jensen for a younger, less uptight guy.  Which explained why Jensen was here in Rome alone, while Dominic Forde was back in England eating cucumber sandwiches with his latest squeeze from the cricket team, Bodger or Boffer or some equally stupid British nickname.

Jensen risked another heavy sigh.  So what if he was being gloomy, he was entitled.  He hadn’t seen any action apart from the self-inflicted for over two months, and it wasn’t as if he could even attempt a no-strings shag with just anyone.  Jensen wasn’t comfortable with one night stands, and his options for anything more meaningful were somewhat limited as most of Branchester’s LBGT community seemed to be made up of lesbians and fresh faced undergraduates.  Like the ones whose voices he could hear echoing off the walls as they bundled off the minibus to disrupt the British School’s carefully maintained eighteenth century atmosphere.  Even though the under grad/graduate culture was looser in the UK, Jensen still felt the constraints of the US system. All of which meant he’d feel it was unethical to hit on one of the younger students.  Assuming any of them was even interested in an older perpetually disgruntled guy anyway.   Dominic had been quick enough to replace him with some fresh piece of ass, after all.

Jensen glanced at his watch.  He had at least half an hour before the kids got settled, dumped their gear and his babysitting duties began.  He pushed his glasses up his nose with a decisive gesture.  There was still time to make some more notes…

**0x0x0x0**

Jared was on a high.  Okay, most of his friends would say Jared always behaved like an overexcited puppy, but this time he had good cause.  A year of pining over Alison Mills had finally concluded on the very last day of the summer session, when Alison approached Jared to ask for help moving furniture out of her student flat.  Of course Jared had said yes, because he was a sucker for helping people, even if this hadn’t been the woman who he’d been fantasising about since he’d set eyes on her in their _Greece in the Dark Ages_ class.  So when it turned out that Alison’s request was a precursor to her telling him she might possibly want to go out with him in their final year, and then very shyly kissing him on the lips, Jared’s heart might just have exploded.

He couldn’t believe his luck.  He couldn’t believe he had to survive a whole six weeks before he could see her again.  The anticipation might just kill him.  So it was just as well he was used to waiting, and that he had a lot of practice with his right hand. And that he really, really loved that he was spending his summer in the best way possible.  At least if he couldn’t spend the summer getting to know Alison better, here in history-saturated Italy Jared could indulge his other big passion.  He couldn’t get over the fact that with every footstep he was touching two millennia’s worth of the past.  If there was one thing that got Jared Padalecki as excited as being in love, it was archaeology.  The sheer depth and richness of Europe’s history had drawn him irresistibly to a school in the UK rather than the US, and when this British School at Rome dig had come up, he’d jumped at the chance of an excavation in Italy’s deep south.  The addition of a visit to Rome and the Bay of Naples had been a glorious bonus and more than made up for saying goodbye to Alison for six whole weeks. 

So he refused to let his spirits be dampened on his arrival at the British School, even when Prof Campbell told him he had been assigned as intimidating grad student Ackles’ assistant for the duration of their expedition.  The guy was a fellow American, in fact they were both from Texas, so the Prof had probably thought the two of them would get on well, being compatriots and all. And really, the Prof would have been right in any other circumstances.  Jared was the sort of guy who could get along with anyone.  Anyone but Jensen Fucking Ackles.

Jared just stood there like a giant dork while the tiny rotund Prof delivered the news.  He cringed inwardly at the disgruntled expression currently marring Ackles’ too-pretty face, and tried not to be intimidated by it.

Jared didn’t know what it was about Ackles, but the tall handsome Texan with his ridiculous bowlegs and equally ridiculous bowed lips scared the hell out of him.  Jared knew he was good at his subject, and he was aiming for first class honours because he wanted to go on to do research (like Jensen) and direct digs around the world (like the Prof) one day.  He knew all of that, yet somehow when he was in Jensen’s presence, he forgot.  When he was with Jensen Ackles, he felt like a first grader, an intellectual pygmy.  Not that he had spent a lot of time with the post grad student before this trip, in fact Jared didn’t think Jensen even knew his name, even though as editor of the Department’s Archaeology magazine for a year, Jared had accepted several submissions from the guy.

“Look, I’m not saying some help wouldn’t be appreciated, there’s a lot of tombs to assess in only two weeks, but…” Jensen was saying, and Jared shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, getting the message loud and clear that the post grad didn’t want Jared tagging along.  A message Prof Campbell seemed immune to.

“Yes, so that’s why I thought you and Jared could get more done together instead of trying to do all that surveying on your own.” She said brightly, craning her neck to look up at both of them.  Jensen shot Jared an impenetrable look from under those thick lashes, and Jared had to supress the sudden flare of electricity that rushed through him.  And there was the other reason Jensen Ackles made Jared uncomfortable.  That towering intellect was accompanied by more scorching hotness that should be allowed on any university campus.

Jared swore silently under his breath as the Prof walked out of the room, leaving him alone with Jensen. 

Who was still staring at him, his expression now more thoughtful than antagonistic.

“You’d better make the most of the next week’s study-sightseeing trip then, Padalecki.  Once we get to Apulia you aren’t going to have a moment to call your own.” He said, before turning to follow the Prof, leaving Jared blushing like a schoolgirl. 

 Fuck it.  Jared was not going to be that guy – you know, the one who’s being drawn into unfaithful, naughty thoughts before he’s even had a chance to more than kiss his sweet, innocent girlfriend-to-be.

**0x0x0x0**

As it turned out, the first week of the field trip wasn’t too bad for Jared.  This part was a study tour in name rather than in deed, most of the week taken up with soaking up the hot Italian sun as much as soaking up knowledge. Having Jensen around in the background was distracting, sure, but there was so much to see and do, Jared was proud of how well he was coping.  He revelled in the fascinations of Pompeii and Herculaneum, and was only mildly aroused when Jensen, acting as their tour guide, expounded on the glorious proportions of the Greek temples at Paestum.  When his best bud Alan Williams noticed him staring at Jensen’s lips a little too fixedly and teased him about it, he was quick to defend himself.

“Hey, Williams, back off!  Any self respecting bi would be interested in someone as pretty as Ackles, especially when he’s talking about suggestively phallic columns…”

“Nah, only a perve like you, Padders.  _Normal_ people don’t get aroused by some nerd in specs enthusing about ancient architecture or tombs or dating evidence.  If we did, there would be an embarrassing amount of wanking going on in the lecture theatres.”

Jared rolled his eyes. 

“Williams, you are such a philistine.  I have no idea why you are even here!”

Alan grinned at him and gestured over his shoulder at four scantily clad female members of the team.

“Bikini tops and short shorts, matey, plus lots of opportunities, why else?  That Meredith is definitely interested in me…”

Jared had his doubts about that.  It didn’t look as though any of the quartet were paying the slightest attention to either Alan or Jared.  Instead the girls were currently either pretending to check out the 24 flutes (as opposed to the usual 20) on the columns of the Temple of Hera that Jensen was pointing out to them, or checking out Jensen’s perky ass, depending whether they were standing in Jensen’s eye line or not. 

Jared’s eyes were irresistibly drawn to said perky ass, and the tantalising patch of sweat that darkened the back of Jensen’s green cargo shorts.  It was forming an arrow pointing right to the cleft of … Oh my god.  That was a seriously gorgeous ass.  He wrenched his gaze away before his treacherous dick took even more interest in the proceedings, and manfully resisted swatting Alan on the back of the head when his so-called friend laughed at his attempts to hide his obvious predicament.

So yes, Jared was doing fine, except for when he wasn’t.

But that was okay. Jared knew this was just his libido, not his heart, speaking, and Jared had it under control.  Whenever he imagined Ackles’ exquisite pink lips wrapped around his cock, those thoughts like stealth ninjas sneaking their way into his mind when he watched Jensen talking, or when Jensen laughed at one of Jared’s ridiculous jokes, he would imagine how Alison had looked at him, full of shy promise, and his raging hard-on would subside.

“Don’t you worry that thinking about Alison actually makes your todger wilt?”  Alan asked, after suffering through another session with Jared drinking too much wine at dinner and wanting to confide all his deepest darkest secrets to anyone and everyone.  Fortunately for Jared, Alan was usually on hand to make sure the only person he spilled his inner ramblings to was his best friend and not the world.  Although Alan had the outward appearance of an ox, all muscles and bland bovine placidity, he was sharp as a razor and had a huge heart.   Together they made a formidable if unlikely pairing, both physically and intellectually. 

Jared thought about what Alan had said, but then dismissed it.  He didn’t want to face any uncomfortable implications when he was trying so hard to be faithful to his future girl.

Jared Padalecki was not a cheater.  What? He wasn’t.

**0x0x0x0**

Jensen would never admit it, but he was kind of enjoying this trip.  The undergraduates were not too juvenile, once you got to know them, though the gang of four girls the Prof kept calling the Four Marys ( _it was a comic book story, Jensen, you wouldn’t understand_ ) would keep making Jensen blush with their constant flirting.  He’d tried telling them he wasn’t interested – hey, gay man here! – but they didn’t seem convinced.  One of them, the skinny blonde called Rosie or Rachel or something like that, had even pointed to Padalecki, saying _he likes men_ and _women, you know_?  As if that meant anything.  Just because one gangly, shaggy haired guy was bisexual didn’t mean Jensen was a closet bi too.

Jensen tried not to think too hard about Jared Padalecki maybe liking guys.  Because he was no cradle-snatcher and Padalecki was just a kid, with his gawky long limbs that sprawled everywhere and his dimpled smile. 

_Dimples for chrissakes!_

He’d seen Padalecki around the University before, of course he had.  The Department was small, only a hundred and fifty students and a handful of postgrads, and a guy that ~~attractive~~ tall was hard to miss.  But he’d never allowed himself to really look at any of the younger students.  It had seemed ill advised to mix his sex life with his academic life, so though he’d been all too aware of his fellow Texan, he’d had Dominic and his studies, and that was enough.

Mark had argued with him often enough.  Mark, post grad in geophysics and Jensen’s best friend at Branchester, had hated Dominic with a passion.

“You are wasting your chance of finding someone special, who’s right for you, instead of putting up with that utter pratt, and doing nothing but work the rest of the time,” Mark had told him many times, and Jensen always gave the same negative response.

“There’s more to life than academia, you know,” Mark would argue, but Jensen wasn’t convinced then and nothing was different now.  Love was all very well, but archaeology was life itself. Okay, Branchester wasn’t Oxford or Cambridge, or even Princeton or Harvard, but his doctorate course was led by the Prof, and she was the foremost archaeologist in her field.

Mark was much happier now Jensen split up with Dominic. Jensen had been careful not to tell his friend that actually he’d been the dumpee in the equation. Life was easier that way.  Though knowing Jensen was back on the market did mean Mark felt free to don the mantle of matchmaker, and his friend was endlessly pointing out prospective love, or at least lust, interests to Jensen.

“Why don’t you take your own advice, Mark?  Go find yourself a nice girl and stop meddling with my life.  I’m sure you’d be less interested in whether I’m getting some or not if you had someone warming _your_ bed at night.”

“Fuck you, Ackles,” was Mark’s less than witty retort.

“Nah, you’re not my type,” Jensen replied, and the topic was shelved until next time.

So now Jensen was being careful and maintaining a distance between himself and all the kids, but especially Padalecki and his beguiling dimples.  Jensen performed his shepherding duties, rounding up the flock and pointing them in the direction of the culture and heritage they were supposed to be there to study, and when they finally arrived on the dig site at Botromagno, he supervised the first few days of the excavation while looking forward the start of his research project. 

But that was where his problems really started.  Italy wasn’t Texas, but it was hot, especially here in the far south in the middle of summer.  The hill top site they were excavating was peppered with ancient olive trees, none of which encroached onto the dig enough to offer even minimal shade, and after the first hour of attempting to open a new trench in the rock-hard ground, everyone was down to the bare minimum of clothing.

 _Bare_ being the operative word.

“Here, have a tissue. You’re drooling, Jenny,” Mark said with a grin as he passed by with his resistivity meter over one shoulder, laptop bag over the other.

Jensen tore his gaze away from the test pit with an effort so he could give Mark the requisite two fingers.  After two years in the UK he had picked up that the Brit ‘fuck off’ sign was more effective than giving someone the middle finger.  They really were two countries divided by a common language.

Jensen took off his glasses and allowed the world’s colours to blur while he wiped sweat off his face with the back of his hand.  One thing he hated about being shortsighted was having his glasses sliding down his nose when he got sweaty.  

Jensen wasn’t going to give Mark the satisfaction of admitting that he had been mesmerised watching the flex of Jared’s back muscles as he wielded the long-handled shovel full of loose dirt as if it was nothing.  Everyone else was struggling with the Italian equipment – a shovel with a six-foot long handle was surprisingly difficult to wield.  Il Sindaco, the old guy who was apparently the mayor of Botromagno, and his equally wizened friend from the town were very amused as they stood next to Jensen, giving a running commentary in thickly accented Italian.  From what little Jensen could understand, the gist of it seemed to be how pathetic the students’ performance was.  Jensen’s job was to keep the local dignitaries amused while the Prof was sorting out the excavation plans with Regina in the site hut, but he’d been somewhat distracted by the fact that Jared was building up a very nice tan, and by the way the sweat gleamed as it trickled over all that glorious golden skin.

So distracted that he noticed too late that the Mayor had decided enough was enough, and he and his friend had waded in to show the kids how it was done.   Pushing aside the Four Marys, Alan, Roy and Malcolm, the two ancient yet wiry Italians hefted their pickaxes and went at the baked earth as if it had insulted their Momma.  The students stood open mouthed as the two tiny men broke up the ground with metronomic precision, moving the earth like twin jackhammers.  Jared was the first to react, grabbing his shovel and starting to clear the soil as quickly as he could.  The others caught on and soon all the students were shovelling like crazy, trying to keep up with the local guys.

Mark came up on Jensen’s shoulder and the two postgrads watched, grinning.  Malcolm, also known as Conker - because, Mark explained as if it was obvious, he had dark red hair and a shiny face _like a conker, oh look it up, Yank_ \- got redder and redder until Jensen took pity on him, and pulled him off shovelling duty to wheel away barrow-loads of spoil.  The Four Marys were allowed to stand back from the fray and were clearly appreciating the show as Jared, Alan and Roy competed with the Italians and each other, muscles rippling and sweat dripping.

“Your boy is rather well built, isn’t he,” Mark observed.  Jensen dug a vicious elbow into his friend’s ribs in a vain attempt to shut him up.

“Jared’s not my boy,” Jensen hissed.  Mark glanced at him, a wicked gleam in his blue eyes.

“Righty ho, he’s not.  So how did you know which of those three handsome studs I was talking about then?”

Jensen flushed redder than Conker.  The sooner their fellow postgrad Christine finished off her holiday in Sicily and arrived to take over supervision of the dig the better.

Of course, Jensen was forgetting that when Christine took over, he would be free to start his research project.  With Jared as his personal assistant.

Jensen was so screwed.

**0x0x0x0**

“Padders, Lord Snooty’s watching you again,” Alan said, poking Jared’s bicep unnecessarily hard, in Jared’s opinion.

“Jensen’s not snooty, he’s just a bit…”

“A bit what?  Grumpy?  Grouchy? Stand-offish?”

“Reserved!  I was just going to say reserved.  Anyway shut up about him, I don’t know why you are so obsessed with Ackles any how.”

“I’m not the one who’s staring at him all the time, Jared.  You look like a lovesick puppy,” Alan chuckled, pausing for a moment to rest on his shovel.  “Heh. A Paddapuppy.”

“Oh very funny, and fuck you.”

Jared was not lovesick, no way.  He had Alison waiting for him - so no extraordinarily attractive, fascinatingly intelligent, freckle-speckled guy was going to tempt Jared into licking his way down that golden treasure trail to discover the tantalising reward that nestled inside those tight denim cut offs Jensen was wearing today.  Jared was absolutely _not_ noticing how Jensen’s short spiky hair was starting to get blond highlights, or that his light skin was beginning to turn to pale bronze in the southern Italian sun, so that he resembled a Phidias statue of a Greek god.  With the adorable anachronistic addition of steel-rimmed glasses, of course.

And Jared was so not lying awake at night in the student’s shared make-shift dormitory listening to Alan snoring and Conker jerking off, wondering how he was going to cope when he had to spend time alone with this fucking Adonis who had insinuated himself into every one of Jared’s wet dreams since he arrived in Italy.

Okay. Jared was man enough to admit it.  He was totally screwed.

**0x0x0x0**

It was somewhat of a surprise when Prof Rosie Campbell stuck her head round the door to the postgrads’ bedroom well after all had gone quiet in the rest of the lodgings.  The Prof tended to be very single minded and hadn’t bothered to knock, just launched straight into her business without a thought for the lateness of the hour.

“Christine will be here by ten o’clock tomorrow.  If you want to begin surveying your tombs in the morning, Jensen, you and Jared can take my Land Rover.  Get started on the ones in the western ravine.”

She was met by twin squeaks of protest from Mark and Jensen who were in various stages of undress.  Jensen grabbed a towel to cover his groin while Mark dived behind the half open door.

“God, Prof, a little privacy, please!”

Professor Campbell just shrugged and smiled beatifically.  “Nothing I haven’t seen before, boys.  Here.  Catch!”

 She chucked the keys to the Land Rover at Jensen’s head, and he dropped his towel to snatch them out of the air before they took his eye out.  He glared, blushing furiously.

“What?” she said, while raising an appreciative eyebrow at the display.  “I’m a career archaeologist.  Everyone knows women archaeologists can’t throw for toffee.  In fact, my very first excavation, we proved it by a scientific experiment.  Each sex aimed nine-inch nails at targets.  Us girls missed every time.  I can safely say, it’s all in the elbow.”

Having delivered her parting shot, fortunately without using a nine-inch nail, the Prof disappeared, leaving Jensen to pull on his tatty sleeping boxers.  Mark threw himself onto his camp bed with a groan.

“You lucky bugger.  Wish my thesis was about something useful that would get me somewhere nice and secluded with that gorgeous totty Debbie…”

Jensen carefully ignored Mark’s insinuation, deflecting with a question.

“Which of the Four Marys is Debbie, then?”

“You know, the one with the long blonde hair and fine arse.”  Mark demonstrated with hand gestures how much he appreciated Debbie’s curves.  

Jensen snapped off the light before lowering himself down onto his bed with a little more care than Mark.  Those metal framed beds were none too strong and he was sure it was just a matter of time before Mark’s collapsed on him.  He reached up to put his glasses on the windowsill. Botromagno was a minimalist sort of expedition.  Budgets were tight these days and didn’t stretch to furniture.  Jensen was just grateful they had a stone building with walls and toilets that flushed instead of a tent.

“God, Mark, you’re fickle. I thought you liked Meredith,” he said. “Anyway, I always preferred brunettes.”

“Like Padalecki, right.  So remind me why you were fucking that tow-haired cricket pillock again?”

“He might have been an idiot, but he was a good lay!  And he _said_ he loved me.”

Mark snorted derision into the dark.  Jensen winced a little.  Yeah, he deserved that one.

“Well, that Jared kid seems okay.  At least he makes you laugh, Jen.  Haven’t seen that for a while.”

Jensen almost heaved a sigh of his own, but held it back.  No point in baring his soul any more than he already had done.  Mark always said he was transparent as crystal anyway.

“That ‘Jared kid’ isn’t available, Mark.  I heard him talking to his buddy Alan about the girl he’s got waiting for him back home.”

“But he’s bi, right…”

“Don’t, Mark.  It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not that desperate for a ride that I’d do an undergraduate.  I’m happy to be single.  I am.”

Mark somehow managed to imbue his silence with scepticism.  Jensen flipped off his friend, unseen in the heated darkness.  The gesture was a little half-hearted.  He didn’t want to admit it, but Mark was right.  Jared might be good for him.  Jensen wasn’t that great with people, so being trapped in close quarters with a bunch of archaeologists for a whole month was a kind of torture for him.  So far, Jared was the only one in the team who hadn’t driven Jensen crazy with irritation.  Jared was intelligent and wasn’t afraid to show it, asking pertinent questions when the Prof had explained the finer points of the theories of migration versus trade for the distribution of proto-Corinthian pottery, while the rest of the undergraduates had sat there with blank expressions.  Jared also had a dry wit that was offset by a childlike sense of humour that Jensen increasingly found endearing instead of aggravating.

Jensen hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wasn’t desperate for a fuck.  It was much worse than that.  Jensen was becoming desperate for Jared, period.

 In short, Jared was pretty much the kind of guy Jensen had been searching for all his life.

He lay awake for a long time, staring at the stars as they appeared, framed by the glassless window.

**0x0x0x0**

All the students had long since given up on any pretence of modesty in their schoolroom turned makeshift dorm, and slept naked with just a thin cotton sheet between them and the warm muggy nights.  And even that often ended up flung off too. The schoolhouse only had glass in some of its windows while others were left empty or boarded up, so the students had tacked up more sheets as makeshift curtains to stop the village kids gawping in and (as the Brits said) taking the piss.

Even to a Texan, or maybe especially to a Texan used to air-conditioning wherever you went, this unrelenting southern Italian heat was oppressive.  Tonight was no different from any of the other nights since they’d arrived in Apulia, but Jared just couldn’t get to sleep.  Sweat was trickling down his body, soaking into the thin mattress, and he felt sticky and restless and so hot he couldn’t think straight.  None of which was helped by the fact that every time he closed his eyes, the only image his brain deemed fit to supply was of Jensen Ackles’ full pink lips.  As a means of cooling himself down, it left a lot to be desired.  And there was the crux of Jared’s problem.  Desire.

It was bad enough having endured an academic year’s worth of sexual frustration pursuing the cutest disinterested girl, only to find at the last possible moment that this apparent disinterest was because she was painfully shy and not because she didn’t like him.  No, the real ball crusher was finding out now, when he was hundreds of miles away from consummating _that_ potential relationship, that he was irresistibly drawn to another person who was everything Alison was not.  Outgoing, witty, tall, self assured – and male.

Even trying not to think about Jensen had Jared half hard.  Shit.  Giving up on trying to sleep, Jared sat up, letting his eyes adjust to the dim moonlight filtering through their homemade curtains.  Perhaps a glass of water might help, even though his thirst was less to do with the temperature of the air and more to do with the heat of his illicit passion.

He dragged on a pair of boxer briefs and padded barefoot down the silent dark hallways to the kitchen.  He ran the tap for a minute to let it run cold before filling a glass.  He opened the outside door and breathed a sigh of relief when that created a bit of a through draft. He felt his skin prickle and his nipples harden as the cooler air hit his sweaty skin.  Outside the moon was very bright, casting deep black shadows.  It was beautiful.  The path from the door led down to the wall that divided the old school yard from the steepening rock strewn slope, and Jared had a sudden wish to see over the edge in the moonlight.  Forgetting his lack of shoes, he set his water down and wandered out into the night.

Jared’s sense of adventure bubble was rudely popped two seconds later when he was reminded that bare feet are vulnerable to sharp stones and prickly weeds. Cursing and hopping Jared blundered back into the dark kitchen, only to be brought up short when he bumped into something soft yet unyielding.  A something that then sprouted hands that grabbed and steadied him.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?”

Jared knew that husky voice, and the intimate combination of those rough tones and warm hands gripping his biceps went straight to Jared’s dick.  Oh god, what was Jensen doing here?

“I’m fine, I just…I think I’ve got a thorn or something…” Jared knew he was babbling but he didn’t feel capable of anything else right now.  Fortunately, Jensen took charge.  He propped Jared up against the doorframe with an order to stay, which Jared did, precariously balanced on one leg.  Then a moment later he blinked as the fluorescent strip light flickered into life, throwing the Spartan little kitchen into stark relief, and illuminating Jensen.  Jared swallowed, hard.  Obviously the post graduates had the same problems the other students had with the heat, why wouldn’t they, so Jared really shouldn’t have been surprised that Jensen was nearly naked too.  He couldn’t seem to help himself though, just stared while Jensen bustled efficiently around the kitchen, fetching him a stool to sit on and filling a bowl with warm water in case the thorn needed soaking out.

It was kind of hypnotising, watching the play of muscle under the smooth pale skin as Jensen moved.  He couldn’t help noticing all the freckles, how they were everywhere, dusted over Jensen’s back and stomach.  And how the golden hairs on his arms caught the light.

“So let’s see this injury, then,” Jensen said and then he fucking knelt down between Jared’s legs.  Jared thought his head might just melt from being so close to Jensen’s wide green eyes, let alone from the fact that Jensen’s position was just so suggestive.  He could almost feel Jensen’s breath up the leg of his boxers.  Which really wasn’t helping.  Jared wordlessly offered Jensen his foot to examine, and could have sworn the guy grinned as he turned away to check the sole.

“Aha!  I see it,” Jensen said.  “It’s not too bad, I’ll have it out in just a sec.  There.”  Jared barely had time to wince before Jensen triumphantly held up what looked to Jared an inch long spike of a thorn.

“Not too bad?” Jared squeaked.  “It’s huge!”

Jensen just ignored Jared’s unmanly freak out, and started to gently bathe Jared’s injured foot.  There was something very soothing yet sensual about the way Jensen was touching him that left Jared suddenly lost for words. 

“I don’t think you’ll need any dressing on it, the puncture wound was very small,” Jensen was saying, as he applied some antiseptic from a first aid kit Jared hadn’t even noticed him producing from somewhere.  Jensen dried that foot carefully with a small towel, and Jared expected the ministrations would end there, but instead, Jensen calmly took Jared’s other foot and proceeded to handle it in the same manner.  First he washed it in the cool water then dried it with the same level of attention he’d just given the injured foot.  Jared felt strangely relaxed with this Biblical treatment, even though he was sure he should have been freaking out.

Then Jensen was finished, placing Jared’s injured foot down on the floor, but not moving from where he knelt between Jared’s splayed knees.  Jared’s eyes widened as Jensen placed a warm hand on each of Jared’s thighs.  The older guy was saying something but Jared’s brain was too distracted by the fact that Jensen was touching him be barely comprehended one word in five.  Besides the fact that Jensen was talking so fast it was as if he didn’t’ really want Jared to hear him.

“Jared.  I know you have a girl back home and you aren’t looking for anything else, but I just need… can I just have this?  One kiss.  It won’t mean anything, call it a summer fling, a bit of fun, whatever you like…”

One word filtered through.  Kiss.  Jensen wanted to kiss him.  Oh my god. Fuck yeah.  Jared must have said something that sounded like an affirmative because then Jensen was rising up and leaning in, so his face was tilting so close Jared probably looked like a complete dork going cross-eyed trying to focus on Jensen’s wide eyes, but he didn’t care.  Jared could feel the moist touch of Jensen’s breath on his lips before, finally, their lips touched.

It was the moment Howard Carter looked through that opening into Tutankhamen’s tomb and saw wonderful things.  It was Basil Brown finding the Sutton Hoo treasure, Heinrich Schliemann discovering Troy.  It was electrifying, terrifying, brain-meltingly perfect. 

Then all too soon Jensen was breaking away, flushed an adorable shade of pink.  Jared was too stunned to even squeak out a protest at the sudden withdrawal.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that…don’t know what came over me…”

Jensen was still muttering apologies as he rushed out of the kitchen, leaving Jared hard and aching with a tiny hole in his foot and a huge hole in his conscience.

Summer fling.  Okay.  Maybe he could live with that.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/housefullofbooks/15533442755)  
(Illustration by the lovely [](http://siennavie.livejournal.com/profile)[siennavie](http://siennavie.livejournal.com/) \- thank you darling!)

**0x0x0x0**

Jared woke the next morning, taken by surprise by the fact that he had actually managed to fall asleep.  When he’d eventually slipped back into his dorm, trying his best to be all silent and cat-like, he’d lain for what felt like hours, abuzz with the numerous conflicting feelings kissing Jensen had aroused.

Jared’s heart was sending the blood rushing round his body far too fast and hard, and his fingertips retained the sense memory of Jensen’s rapid heart beat where Jared had placed his hand on the other man’s throat while they had tangled tongues.  Jared couldn’t believe that had just happened. Jensen Ackles had fucking _kissed_ him.  Even though he’d kind of hoped he wasn’t mistaken about the spark that had been pinging backwards and forwards between them in some lovesick, lust-ridden game of Tetris, he hadn’t really believed that Jensen genuinely fancied him.

Was he willing to put all thoughts of Alison aside and actually do this thing, after telling himself over and over it wasn’t in his nature to cheat on her, even if they weren’t officially an item yet? The idea of a temporary, no strings liaison was dangerous ground for Jared, who tended to be an all or nothing kind of guy.

But.  This was Jensen Ackles. This could be the only chance Jared would ever have to find out what it could be like, to be with someone like Jensen.  Maybe Jensen was right, this could just be a bit of fun together, two consenting adults over the summer break, before everything slotted back into place and normality resumed.

At some point, somehow he’d gone to sleep nursing that thought, and woken with it at the forefront of his mind.  It didn’t take Alan long to pick up on Jared’s unusually pensive mood as the two men showered before breakfast.  Of course, Jared crumpled under pressure, he always did. Keeping secrets was never his forte. Strangely, Alan didn’t seem all that surprised by Jared’s revelation, instead his friend cut right to the heart of Jared’s dilemma.

“Does Jensen know about Alison?”

“I think so, yeah. He said something about he understood if I just wanted this to be a summer fling. I suppose he’s got that cricket guy back home, like I’ve got Alison.”

Alan looked thoughtful.  “Would it make any difference if Jensen didn’t have a boyfriend?”

In spite of himself, Jared momentarily brightened at the thought, before deflating again.  “Yes, but it’s not like a guy like Jensen would normally think twice about going out with a guy like me.”

Alan snorted and stepped out of the shower, shaking his head, scattering water droplets like a dog.

“Oh please.  Have you seen the way he looks at you?  He can’t take his eyes off you. Even an unobservant bloke like me can see it, and the girls won’t shut up about it.  I think they’d pay to see you two kiss.”

Jared flushed all over.  He grabbed his towel to hide his embarrassment and found it was nowhere near big enough.  Alan grinned and continued.

“Ok. Well I have it on good authority that dickhead Dominic has been shagging Billy Barnes for a few months, so Jensen is a free man.  Now you have to decide what you’d rather do.  Take this guy who looks at you like he thinks the sun shines out of your arse, or wait and see if Alison is ‘the one’.”  Alan punctuated this with finger quotes and a sceptical expression.  “Because, not to get too soppy about it, I’ve never seen you look at Alison any time during the last year the way you look at Ackles.”

Alan turned before he exited the shower room.  “Think about it and don’t be a big girl’s blouse,” he said, and disappeared, leaving Jared absently towelling himself down.  Think about it.  Huh.  He had a feeling it would be hard to think about anything else, as he was due to spend the whole day alone with Jensen.

**0x0x0x0**

“Rise ‘n shine, sleeping beauty!”

Jensen groaned and pulled the sheet over his head in a vain attempt to avoid Mark’s disgusting cheerfulness at five in the morning. Nobody should be happy at this time of day, especially without coffee.  Even after a week of early rising, aimed at avoiding digging in the midday heat, Jensen was still a total wreck until he’d knocked back at least two huge mugs full of coffee.

It took him another moment to remember his middle of the night excursion to the kitchen. Oh my god, he’d kissed Jared Fucking Padalecki.  Unconsciously he touched a finger to his lips.  They were still tingling.  He seemed to recall saying something about being Jared’s summer fling, and Padalecki agreeing.  Shit.  This wasn’t going to end well.

As usual, by the time Jensen half sleepwalked his way into the small kitchen it was a heaving mass of student flesh, all jockeying for position around the table heaped with fresh bread, cheese and fruit.  It was a constant mystery how the local Botromagno baker managed to get up even earlier than the Branchester students in order to produce their supplies every morning, but Jensen didn’t care as long as someone brewed his caffeine.  He headed straight for the coffee pot with bleary-eyed determination, ignoring the angry protests as he bumped and barged his way across the room.

“Watch out,” sang Mark, “Coffee zombie coming through!”

It wasn’t until Jensen had imbibed half of his second mug that he woke up enough to locate Jared, who was busy lathering his fourth bread roll with a layer of butter as thick as wedding cake frosting.  Jensen wrinkled his nose and pretended he didn’t remember his undergraduate urges to stuff his face whenever he had a chance of free food.

“Padalecki,” he said, waving his mug at the lanky student and trying for nonchalance. “You’re with me today.  Meet me by the Prof’s Land Rover in half an hour.”

He grabbed a couple of peaches from the table as he passed on the way to the door, ignoring the wolf whistles and jokes largely aimed at Jared’s blushing face.  Goddam it, did the guys know about last night’s indiscretion already?

Half an hour later and Jensen was doing pretty well, he thought.  He was ignoring the way Jared had to almost fold his long limbs in half to fit into the front seat of the Land Rover.  Jensen didn’t need reminding how attractive he found it when a guy was bigger than him, thank you very much.  Jensen was also ignoring the way Jared’s cargo pants were sliding up exposing all that tanned hairy leg, because he was concentrating on driving down the dusty track and not tipping the Land Rover over the edge of the gorge that almost fully encircled the ancient deserted hill top town.  It was harder to shut out Jared’s incessant chatter, though.

And hell’s bells, as Mark would have said, that guy could talk for America.  In the space of their short drive, Jared told Jensen about growing up in San Antonio, how he had an older brother and younger sister (huh, just like Jensen), how he’d always loved history and that all his friends had thought he was a freak because he’d worked so hard to get the grades so he could come to Europe to get his degree. 

It occurred to Jensen that he might be making the kid nervous with all his white knuckled glaring out of the dirty windshield, and the whole ignoring thing, but he didn’t dare relax in case the urge to grip Jared’s thigh instead of the wheel took him over entirely.  He was just grateful the kid didn’t mention last night.

Fortunately once Jared moved onto the topic of archaeology in general, followed by ancient Rome, the Etruscans, and what influence the Greeks might have had on the subsequent civilisations, Jensen forgot he was supposed to be keeping himself aloof.  First he joined the conversation.  Then he accidentally took it over.

By the time he brought the ancient vehicle to a grinding halt at the end of the track, Jensen was in full flow.  He barely interrupted his theorising in order to load up an open-mouthed Jared like a pack mule with surveying equipment, before shouldering his own duffel bag and leading the way through the herb scented brush to the first of the rock-cut tombs he wanted to measure.

“So, Prof Campbell has this theory to explain the use of this type of funerary architecture. Maybe the Etruscans settled this far south, but maybe they are Phoenician in origin, because of course we know the Phoenicians settled here from the pottery evidence, as well as from the literary sources, but I’m thinking Botromagno’s necropolis might predate that by some thousands of years. See, I’m thinking we might find parallels here with the tombs in Pantalica in Sicily, which have been dated in two main periods between the 13th and the 8th Centuries BC.”

Without a pause in his flow, Jensen dumped his bag on the debris-strewn floor of the tomb’s doorway. The interior was dark and damp and full of promise.  Jensen didn’t care that all these tombs had been robbed out years ago, they still had secrets hidden in their dimensions, even though they contained nothing of value in terms of artefacts.  And he was going to bring their secret histories out into the open with his research.

Still expounding his theories, he scrabbled around the bag’s contents and emerged with his flashlight in hand.  He was turning around to check what Jared was doing with the precious theodolite, when, in a reversed echo of the previous night, he bumped into something hard and solid and _warm_. He looked up, and up and eventually met Jared’s dark determined gaze.  Oh.

Jared crowded Jensen backwards until his shoulders were pressed up against the rough crystalline surface of the chiselled rock face, and Jensen was _not_ getting off on this feeling of being dominated at all.  His dick gave an excited twitch inside his loose cargo pants at the sheer intensity of Jared’s expression, and he was really starting to regret not having worn his tighter cut-off jeans, as his growing interest must be really obvious.

Then all thoughts of denial fled south and it really didn’t matter any more because Jared was running those big hands down Jensen’s chest and oh my god, unbuttoning Jensen’s pants.

“What…oh fuck,” Jensen gasped.  It seemed that having Jared’s hands on him was all that was required to render him inarticulate.

Jared leaned forward, so his hot breath tickled Jensen’s ear, and that stupid floppy hair was brushing Jensen’s face.  Jensen jerked involuntarily as Jared’s fingers shoved down the front of his boxer briefs and wrapped possessively round his dick. It was hot and dirty and somehow totally unexpected.

“Don’t stop,” Jared panted, sounding as desperate as Jensen felt. “Keep talking.  Tell me about your research. Please.”

“I…oh god.  Yeah…research,” Jensen tried to gather his thoughts together while trying desperately not to come just from the mere idea that Jared was getting hot for what was in his head as much as for his body. 

“So, um…the necropolis in Sicily has about 5000 tombs, and the site was excavated by Orsi in the …oh fuck…late nineteen hundreds…I can’t do this, please just…” Jared was sinking to his knees and if Jensen had thought that what the undergraduate had been doing with his hand was awesome, seeing how Jared was looking up at Jensen through his messed up hair with a look of mischief mixed with pure lust in those wickedly glinting slanted eyes was like every porno he’d ever seen, multiplied a hundredfold.

Jensen’s pants and underwear were pooled around his ankles, his cock enveloped in Jared’s hand was shiny with precome and Jensen could barely breathe.  Then Jared licked down his bared stomach and his whole body shuddered.  What the hell had happened to his composure at the thought of a summer fling?

“Keep talking, Ackles,” Jared demanded. So Jensen talked.

“Of course there are differences between Pantalica and Botro….ugh…magno.  The site in Sicily isn’t associated with any settlement, while this one is co-located with the …oh yeah, god, fuck…hill town we’re excavating…ah…Jesus, Jared!”

The back of Jensen’s head hit the rock with a bump as Jared sucked the head of Jensen’s dick into his mouth, swirling his agile tongue around like he was savouring the best Italian ice cream.  Jensen didn’t think he was going to last much longer. After all, it had been more than two months since he and Dominic had fucked, and that had been an uninspiring event at best.  Whereas this was anything but lacklustre.  If it wasn’t for the prosaicness of his glasses steaming up, Jensen might have thought he’d died and gone to heaven. 

When Jared pulled his magnificent mouth off Jensen’s dick, Jensen groaned in protest.  He looked down to find Jared looking up at him, his grinning lips shiny and wet.  Moisture he should be putting to good use on Jensen’s poor neglected penis, in Jensen’s humble opinion.

“You stop, I stop,” Jared said and Jensen closed his eyes in surrender.  Because he couldn’t allow Jared to stop now.  That would be nothing short of criminal neglect.  Jensen leant his head back against the wall again, as it was too much effort to hold it up.  He was having enough trouble remaining on his feet when all his bones were melting.

“Okay, okay, you win,” Jensen said.

Jared happily went back to work on Jensen’s cock as if giving blowjobs in return for lectures was his sole purpose in life, while Jensen tried not to allow all his brain capacity to be sucked out by Jared’s oh so skilful mouth and tongue. 

“… so it’s entirely possible that some of these rock cut chambers may not be have had funerary functions, but could be troglodyte dwellings or serve some other ritual purp…. oooohhhh…se…ahhh!”

That was it.  Jensen’s brain turned to mush the precise moment Jared deep-throated him while simultaneously sliding a spit-slick finger back between Jensen’s buttocks to stroke the sensitive rim of his hole.  Jensen came so hard he lost all awareness of his surroundings.  The rough rock sandpapering his back, the muggy heat coating every inch of his skin, the sweat tricking down his chest, all subsumed in the feel of Jared’s throat closing round his dick as he spurted his life out and Jared swallowed every drop.

When Jensen opened his eyes, he was still propped up against the wall of the tomb, thanks to Jared holding him upright.  His cock gave a feeble twitch at the thought of how strong Jared must be to manhandle him like that, given that Jensen was six one and not exactly a light weight.

“You with me?” Jared was smiling, the fucker.

“Yeah, course,” Jensen managed to croak in reply and Jared’s smile got wider.

“Good,” Jared said.  “Cause I’m gonna fuck you now.”

Jensen’s head was still swimming, but his dick was most definitely on board with the whole fucking idea and was already making a valiant attempt to get back into the game.  He just wasn’t sure about the rest of his body, which seemed to be jello without a mould.  As for his intellectual capacity?  Well, that had taken on distinct goldfish-like qualities.  He attempted to make that clear.

“I don’t have to carry on with my thesis do I? Cause I think you broke my brain with your tongue.”

Jared’s immediate response was to stick that deliciously evil tongue into Jensen’s open mouth, which just wasn’t fighting fair.  Even Jensen’s last goldfish was swimming away now.  All that was left of him was liquid lust. 

He had just about enough intelligence remaining to gasp out a _yes, me too_ when Jared said _I’m clean, are you?_ Then the younger man hoisting Jensen bodily in the air, demonstrating that those toned muscles weren’t all for show.  Back still pressed to the rock-face,  Jensen instinctively wrapped his legs round Jared’s waist, shivering when Jared outright growled in his ear as he took all of Jensen’s weight.  Then that finger was back between Jensen’s spread legs, slick with more than spit this time.  It blew Jensen’s mind just a little bit more, knowing Jared had come prepared, had managed to dig up some lube out of nowhere, like some sort of archaeologist/magician.

In fact, Jensen decided that Jared was definitely a sorcerer, with magic hands and magic tongue, a conclusion that wasn’t shaken by the complete nonsense Jared was now babbling.  Jensen did vaguely think that maybe this was why Jared wanted _him_ to talk earlier, because Jared himself was barely coherent.  Most of his broken sentences seemed to consist of “Yeah, so fucking tight…knew you’d feel like this…god, yeah”s, which was fine with Jensen, because he really didn’t think he could comprehend anything more intellectually challenging than that right now.  Not with Jared pushing two, then three of those long fingers inside him, not when he could feel the head of Jared’s bare dick brushing against his skin where his thighs were spread wide open.

It was hard to move when he was suspended in mid-air and squashed against a wall but after a few more moments of Jared carefully prepping him, Jensen decided he’d waited long enough.  He wanted Jared’s beautiful fat dick inside him, right the fuck now.  Jensen waited until Jared withdrew his fingers, still panting incoherent nothings into Jensen’s neck, and reaching round with one hand he managed to grab Jared’s cock and drive himself down.

Both of them cried out as gravity helped Jensen sink quickly down on Jared’s dick; too quickly for comfort really, but at this stage Jensen didn’t give a damn and any pain was just adding to the pleasure overload.  Jared’s big hands were gripping his hips hard enough to bruise.  
Jensen could feel Jared’s muscles bunching under his fingers where he was clinging onto Jared’s biceps.

“Fuck.  Jensen.”

“Yeah,” then, “You can move.”

Permission granted, Jared’s hips punched up and Jensen cried out again as Jared’s dick began to pound into him.  All Jensen’s awareness was narrowed down to this, the feel of Jared inside him, sparking his prostate with every stroke, reducing him and redefining him into something pure and primal.  His own cock had somehow hardened again and was being stimulated where it was trapped between their bodies, but even that was secondary to the throbbing demand for attention from Jared’s dick deep inside of him.

It was incredible, unbearable, intolerable.  It had to stop before he died from it and yet he didn’t want it to end.

But nothing lasts forever, and Jensen found himself coming again, clamping his ass down on Jared’s dick, squeezing it and forcing Jared’s orgasm out of him, ready or not.  Jensen could feel the hot semen filling him up, messy and glorious. 

Jared was moaning like he was dying, so Jensen guessed it had been good for him too, as the pair of them slithered into a sweaty heap on the stony floor.  In a little while, Jensen’s system might reboot itself.  Then Jensen would maybe start to worry about being Jared’s summer fling, or the fact that he was covered in scratches and dirt, or about the several sharp stones (or maybe unstratified worthless pottery shards, this was a tomb after all) that were digging into some soft and vulnerable parts of his anatomy, or the fact that this whole thing was potential heartbreak wrapped up in the most appealing of packages…but for the moment he couldn’t muster up enough energy or brain power to worry about any of it.  Not while Jared’s half hard dick still nestled inside him, and Jared’s freakishly long arms were wrapped around him, and Jared’s minty breath was puffing into his face.

Everything else could wait.

**0x0x0x0**

 

 

 

  
** 264 **

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for SPN J2 Xmas Fic Exchange on [](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/)**spn_j2_xmas**.  One of the prompts Delanach asked for was a Geeky/nerdy J2 AU, and from a list of likes I went for something slashy with rough sex, manly schmoop, bare backing, first times (with each other) and smut. Hopefully this fits the bill! 
> 
> Many thanks to **tesserae** and **blackrabbit42** for their thorough, thoughtful betas – I’ve addressed most but not all of your comments, my friends, but hopefully this is now a better story because of both of you!  Any remaining errors are all mine.
> 
> Now illustrated - so a big thank you to the lovely [](http://siennavie.livejournal.com/profile)[siennavie](http://siennavie.livejournal.com/) for the gorgeous art!
> 
> Finally, for those of you who don’t know, it’s not my dodgy grammar – _the British School at Rome_ is its actual name, though I’m sure you’ll be thinking it should be ‘in’ Rome.  Branchester University fictional but is based on the UK model for Universities, and so is (in my limited experience) much less formal in some areas than US ones seem to be. Certainly, I’d expect lecturers to be on first name terms with their students (where they know their names at all!) and there certainly never used to be any barrier between post grads and under grads having relationships, probably because it’s rare for a post grad (MA student) to have a teaching role.  PhD students might teach, but many don’t.  Botromagno is a real place, an archaeological park just outside the town of Gravina in Apulia, Italy.  There are real rock cut tombs there…


End file.
